Whither Identity

When I saw the Caucasian couple approaching, I leapt at them, charm bursting out of every unblocked pore I had.

The fake smile I bore was threatening to slide off my face, severe cramping being the primary reason, and it had been such a tedious and disheartening morning that I had at most only 1 minute's worth of good will Hanting left. Failure was not an option.

"Good morning! I'm from NUS! Would you like to make a donation?" The tin can I thrust out rattled, and I could hear the spiders inside artfully dodging the few pathetic coins rolling about.

Town was currently host to a thousand parasitical students doing community service, and you couldn't sneeze without spraying a student volunteer or two. Truth be told, this couple had probably already been approached and bugged so many times I should be happy if they didn't immediately assault me.

You can therefore imagine my surprise when they actually began to engage me in lively conversation, skyrocketing my status as Portable Spare Change Receptacle to Intelligent Human Being. I fielded questions regarding our current collection drive, as well as queries about student life in Singapore.

They left soon after, visibly pleased by the informative exchange we had, but not before donating a respectable amount and rendering a bittersweet praise.

"Why, we think it's amazing that you can speak English so well! Keep up the good work!"

Yes, I'm aware of the myopic view that Singaporeans, hailing from a country that is part of China, all speak Mystic Oriental Tongues and have specially evolved hands to manipulate chopsticks. So I closed one eye and graciously accepted their compliment.

Now, the above incident alone wouldn't have provided enough impetus for this post. The following incident in conjunction to the first, does.

A while later, when a Chinese couple I had approached returned puzzled blank looks, I rattled off my introduction in Mandarin instead. That seemed to do the trick - once the language barrier was overcome, they warmed up to me and we started chatting.

It turned out that they were tourists from Taiwan, and were just as inquisitive about Singapore as the earlier Caucasian couple was. Our encounter ended much like the first, with a generous contribution and a particularly unsettling compliment.

"Why, we think it's amazing that you can speak Mandarin so well! Keep up the good work!"

Right. I guess I must look like a veritable monkey to foreigners, master of an extensive vocabulary consisting of "Ook", "Oook" and "Ooook".

Upon reflection, I came to the conclusion that our national identity simply needs a more emphatic definition soon. Our young are growing up in a time when Singapore's truly beginning to embrace globalization, and foreign cultures have penetrated into our lives so deeply it's hard to tell where our own unique identities truly begin and end.

How much longer before the outside world stops mistaking us for always being part of another country? Will the next generation of Singaporeans be more confident in assuming a united identity? Or will they be a rush-job patchwork of borrowed cultures, of American MTV and British humour and Finnish technology?

In the meantime when I'm in town I'll be wearing a placard that says -

'Hi! My name is Hanting. I speak English and Mandarin. Please do not feed.'